NO. 4 - RUNNING OUT OF TIME
Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building (Romanogers)

~~~

The explosion rang in Natasha's ears. She couldn't tell if one of her teammates was yelling into the comms, asking if she and Steve were okay after entering the building that'd just collapsed on itself. Scratch that, the comms were most likely broken. Fire danced in the corner. Dirt, grime, and a trickle of running water came through a crack in the ceiling. Darkness. Everything was surrounded in darkness except for the occasional flicker of flames and flying dust.

Natasha closed her eyes and coughed. She immediately felt a heavy weight pinning her left leg down, making the assassin feel more trapped than she already was. It was twisted underneath the construction rubble and Natasha could smell the familiar metallic odor of blood. Shit, they were so screwed.

"Natasha?" Someone grunted out. Rogers.

She tried to speak, but the only sound that escaped from Natasha's lips was a low moan of pain. Her leg was definitely broken badly.

"'M 'ere." Natasha mentally cursed herself for slurring and repeated what she'd previously said, a little louder, "I'm here."

"Are you hurt?" She could hear the worry in his voice.

The assassin tried to feel for other injuries. She shifted her foot, but found that that was pretty much impossible. "Uh, leg and maybe foot."

"Maybe? Give me a—" Steve lifted off chucks of cement and bricks, using Natasha's voice to help locate her— "pain scale, one to ten."

Natasha felt her eyelids flutter. Her grip on consciousness wavered significantly.

"Nat, please! Are you there—? Just stay awake!" Steve's panicked yelling snapped her out of the daze. He increased his pace, ignorig the blood covering his hands as the rock cut his palms. "Please, please, please..."

"Hurry up, Steve," she mumbled. "'M tired."

"Stay with me."

Natasha wasn't sure if she was unconscious, or if there was just that little light in the hole they were trapped in. She quickly reached up and slapped her cheek. Stay awake - Captain's orders, yeah,?

A rugged combination of brick and construction debris surrounded Natasha, encasing her in the middle with little oxygen to breathe. She didn't panic; panicking only used up more of her now precious oxygen.

Steve started rambling about an old war story with Peggy Carter and the Howling Commandos. He wanted desperately to keep Natasha conscious. If something happened to her, the soldier knew he'd always carry the blame and guilt that he couldn't protect Natasha. Hell, Steve didn't even know the next step to take after freeing her from the small space. They were both stuck together, alone, injured, and running out of dust particle ridden air to breathe. Oh, and the dysfunctional duo was stuck under a building.

"Er, were you and Carter ever... Y'know—?"

Steve wiped sweat from his brow. "Remind me again why you care so much about my love life? You're like a love goddess."

"Aphrodite."

He picked up a block of concrete and moved it aside. That was when Steve finally saw Natasha. It was only her right arm, but he could already tell that it was bent at a weird angle.

Natasha broke his thoughts. "On second thoughts, my arm may be broken."

"I second that now that I'm looking at it. Are you still with me, Nat?"

"Unfortunately."

"Hey," Steve said solemnly, "don't think about yourself that way."

She raised an eyebrow in question. Although, Steve wouldn't even be able to see it while her face was obstructed from his sight with rubble. He reached over and squeezed her hand — whether it was for him or Natasha — Steve didn't know or care. Knowing where her arm and chest were provided an advantage for Steve. The soldier immediately gauged the distance to where her head would be.

Natasha grinned when their eyes were finally able to meet. "Hi, ’ook you long ’nough." Her usually bright emerald eyes were dull and glossed over with pain. The way Natasha slurred her words and let in a hint of her natural accent wasn't a good sign to Steve.

"Oh, Nat, thank god!" Steve nearly collapsed with the relieve flooding through him. He cleared some more debris off of her torso and felt a rush of adrenaline course through his veins.

She hissed when he shifted the block pinning her leg. "Ow." Black spots clouded the edge of her vision and Natasha, in a trance, felt her eyes closing.

"Sorry— hey, hey! Stay awake, please Natasha."

"Slap me if you have to, Rogers." Natasha smirked lazily.

Steve slowly edged the cement off of her injured leg, already noticing how obviously broken it was. "What, like in Star Trek? That time when M'Benga slapped Spock so he'd become conscious, I mean."

"Huh," Natasha whispered with mock surprise, "you actually watched that like Tony and I told you."

"I— uh." Steve struggled to hold back a gasp.

She arched an eyebrow. "How bad?"

"It's not that bad." He gulped and avoided both the eyes that usually captured his gaze and Natasha's bloodied leg.

"You're a terrible liar."

"

Fine," an exasperated Steve grunted. "This screams hospital and compound fracture."

A bit of starch white bone had pierced the skin, peeking out from amidst the dark crimson blood. The floor around the wounded area was stained with it, already dried with the leftover heat from the day's earlier explosion.

"Please... Tell me your comm is working."

Steve reached into his ear and examined the small device. He blew cool air on it and put it back in, angered to hear only static and another noise that was too high pitched to be properly heard. The soldier almost thought it was the ringing from earlier.

"This is Rogers and Romanoff... We're here. Does anyone copy?"

Silence. Steve cursed.

Natasha teased, "Language, Cap."

"If anyone is there—" his voice cracked. He had to save Natasha somehow— "please read the coordinates and help us. We're running out of time."

She was going to yell, "I can even put up with Stark!" but instead decided to conserve oxygen.

Seconds passed and Steve held his breath. Natasha tried not to panic, which was a task growing harder with every tick of the clock. They kept hoping to hear Tony, Clint, Thor, or even Bruce's voice over the comms telling them to hang on. Natasha realized with a start that it felt good to have this team — this family. If only she had more time. She'd always lived on borrowed time from those who fell pray to the Black Widow, and it looked like her hourglass was finally out of red sand to spill. The thoughts of the Red Room, S.H.I.E.L.D, and the Avengers poured through Natasha's head — life flashing before her very eyes.

The lightheadedness didn't pass. She focused on the faces of Steve, Tony, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Pepper, Laura, Lila, Cooper, Fury, Hill, Coulson, and others as Natasha felt the final fight in her give out. She thought she heard frantic yelling and shaking, but didn't care anymore. How did the assassin end up here again? Panic. She couldn't remember. The room was spinning, spinning so fast that Natasha almost believed it was a tornado touching down with a dust field and sending debris — like the stuff around her! — into the air with a loopy swirl.

While a sudden burst of light flooded the area, Natasha slipped into darkness. Everything shut down. At least she could fix one of her greatest regrets right now with only four simple words — love wasn't for children: "I love you, Steve."

She awoke later in medbay, instantly aware of a hand entwined with her own. Clint snored in an uncomfortable hospital chair in the corner of her hospital room. Steve Rogers held her hand in another chair, and Natasha smiled with the thought of that moment. She closed her eyes and slept happily — Natasha was too damn stubborn to die. Maybe she didn't just live on other's time, but instead her own, which she intended to use down to her dying days.